Eli TheProphet - Keys, Wallet, Glasses, Cell phone

It's a shame the game has died in such a fit
Real G's replaced by some kids who mumble shit
Wanna smash em in their face and snap their wrists
So they'll never be seen holdin' mics again
Fake emcees got some questions to answer
How you gunna' let your rhymes plague the game like cancer?
Whole crew out actin all tough in a stance, were
You stepping to us? Then you'd better be damn sure
And mumble rappers they finna be meddlin'
But turn tail when they see I spit better than veterans
Spending their money on fame they actin special when
We're tired of these "lils" thinking they relevant
In the North we ain't the type to phone it in
When you see that red and white, you know who gon' win
Try to fight, for your life, we'll steal it with a grin
Might be the prophet, right, but I'm the real son of sin
Keys, wallet, glasses, cell phone
Got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my skinny jeans on, with a band-t donned
Right hand horns drawn and I'm lookin kinda slack jawed
Keys, wallet, glasses, cell phone
Got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my skinny jeans on, with a band-t donned
Right hand horns drawn and I'm lookin kinda slack jawed
And I'm lookin kinda slack jawed
Bump into a few dudes out there on the sidewalk
Outside of Jack's and it's last call
Bout ta throw fists so I put my back up to that wall
Slide quick and I go to his left
Five hits from the palm exploding his chest
Hit so hard it goes on through his vest
Like it's monty python's bring out your dead
Got a bad bitch, she like sturgeon
Oh my bad trick, she looked certain
Fuck in public, but we ain't pervin'
Copped a new bid, she like servin'
Got a new whip, we like swervin'
Want a new clique, I'll drop a word in
Help your mans, kid, he looks hurtin'
Oh you mad bitch? Meet your surgeon
Keys, wallet, glasses, cell phone
Got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my skinny jeans on, with a band-t donned
Right hand horns drawn and I'm lookin kinda slack jawed
Keys, wallet, glasses, cell phone
Got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my skinny jeans on, with a band-t donned
Right hand horns drawn and I'm lookin kinda slack jawed
LVE? You must be frontin'
Less than half you punks, do dirt in London
Steal the draw strings, and make a loop for em
Yank it tight, string up a whole group of em
On some crazy shit like it's bebop boy
Marth is calling out for you like please stop Roy
Give away generic rhymes like a free pop toy
And I'm chilling at Dragon Boat while I eat bok choy
Y'all in the back scrounging for chicken lips
Y'all is just some chicken shits
Y'all ain't never kick it, shit
I'm eatin' beats like chicken dip
Only a handful of you rappers have ever really been legit
And I've been trainin' up at platinum and adrenaline where I been kickin it
Keys, wallet, glasses, cell phone
Got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my skinny jeans on, with a band-t donned
Right hand horns drawn and I'm lookin kinda slack jawed
Keys, wallet, glasses, cell phone
Got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my cell phone
I got my skinny jeans on, with a band-t donned
Right hand horns drawn and I'm lookin kinda slack jawed
You stop and stare and look at me like I'll cause some harm. Why?
Cause I have piercings, stretched ears and tats on my arm? Guy
Some days there's dreams of glory where my rhymes could ever go
But what do I know, I'm just a metal head who writes rap flows

Written by:
Chris Rowan

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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